Sunday, February 22, 2015
One of Those Moments
This morning after the 10:45, just down from the choir loft with the Attende Domine still echoing in my head and my wife near the front of the nave catching up with friends, I stood waiting for her alone at the rail at the rear of the sanctuary.
What I beheld was like what you see in the picture above—that’s my parish church—except that the scene was peopled with small groups of parishioners greeting one another, taking their sweet time at the end of mass.
(Editorial note: The verb beheld in that sentence is, granted, quite King James Biblish; but it exactly says what I was doing at the moment. I can’t think of a better verb. Furthermore, the phrase taking their sweet time is admittedly trite, but it also is quite precise under the circumstances. Everyone I saw looked like they were having a sweet time for themselves.)
Unlike many times waiting for my wife, I felt no impatience. That may have had something to do with the choices I have made for Lent, but how the serenity, the not-needing-to-change-anything came about doesn’t change it. I was quiet, at peace, no need to move outwardly or inwardly.
I was exactly where I wanted to be.
I realized in that moment, which was a long one, that there is no place on earth I am happier than in this particular church—mine—where I have worshiped as a convert to the Catholic faith since 2008.
Every small group of fellow parishioners in front of me brought a smile to my face. I knew few of them by name but all of them by common faith. They were and are my family.
I was home.